Take A Bow
by Naaer- inactive
Summary: And they knew who he was. The Oncoming Storm.   And they had just ignited it.


Um...really not sure where this came from. I was just wanting to write and post _something_ to show I'm still alive, and this was the first thing that popped into my head. More dark than the DarkTen I usually write...I blame the stress of finals, and the fact this is probably influenced by a squicky non-con and _very_ DarkTen fic I _so did NOT_ mean to read (it wasn't labelled as non-con, how was I suppose to know? D: ) But then this is a bit squicky...sorry. I don't usually write gore/horror.. :o

*shudders* Oh, and Muse. _Take A Bow_, to be precise.

Enjoy. lol

(hintValeyardhint)

* * *

><p>It was always there, humming innocently in the background. Masses of swirling thoughts, darkening, darkening, swooping down on him, an obsidian mass readying for the kill.<p>

Like whispers. _You corrupt._

_All you do is bring death._

He shakes them away with a flick of the wrist and airy fingers, banishing the thoughts to their depths once more.

He casts a glance around his ship as he tinkers, and latches his gaze onto Rose. So...innocent.

She'd never know who he really was. What he was capable of.

He'd _killed _his own people.

_You ought to burn in Hell_, the voice taunts.

But then...He bits his lower lip, and recalls the previous day. An encounter with the nefarious Crae'tan -known for their love of blood-sports- had sent his inner goodness -his will to do _right_- into utter overdrive.

But...was it goodness?

It's all a inky haze, and anything bright is just smothered as he remembers. Snatches of what appeared to be a peaceful planet- his babbling, babbling that _she'd_ believed- brought more destruction then he could have imagined. Ever.

All it had taken was one blink. One single blink, and she was gone.

Gone.

His mind went blank. It hadn't been long after their tryst with the Beast, and its damned words rang in his ears.

He was, quite frankly, terrified.

He felt so bloody _useless_. Had no clue.

Back in the TARDIS, her lights flashed and an image flooded onto the screen.

_Ah._

His eyes darkened as he read the mass of text with a speed no human could ever match.

And what he found _disgusted _him. But his fear for Rose rocked him to the core, far more than that disgust lingered bitterly in his mouth.

A swish of his coat, and he was gone.

The Crae'tan had decided to build themselves a filthy little slave ring on the outskirts of the Zekrom Nebula, undiscovered.

And they knew who he was. The Oncoming Storm.

And they had just ignited it.

* * *

><p>He looks down at his hands- surprisingly clean considering he's fixing the helmic regulator- and all he sees is their blood. Rose's captors' blood.<p>

But there was blood before. His jaw tightens at the newer memory invaded his peace.

As down the dim corridor he strode, a man evidently on a mission and with no intent of giving it up at any rate.

Torches lined the rust-flecked walls, and the acrid scent of urine and animal made him grimace.

Darkness crept from the corners, and as he rounded one, he saw crimson blooms across the wet concrete.

His nose wrinkled at the iron tang, but his hearts thudded at the sight. It was everywhere: a few splatters near his foot, a dribble snaking brokenly to the door. Bloody handprints on the silverwood, scores and lines, signs of struggle.

He dared to move closer.

Scratches indenting the damp surface. Scratches that looked suspiciously like-

_Oh no_.

And then he ran.

* * *

><p>He found Rose, in utter emancipation. His hearts felt they were being ripped in two.<p>

A scuffle behind him alerted him to her captors. His fists clenched.

There would be no second chances this time.

So he played the hero, sent Rose to the TARDIS -knowing there was more than physical damage this time- and then, _then_, he let that facade take over.

The Crae'tan before him squirmed in utter terror. He pleaded and whimpered, begged for mercy- but they fell on deaf ears.

The Oncoming Storm had been lit, and was burning full blaze.

* * *

><p>She would never know.<p>

And maybe that was best.

But he'd been oh so close to that edge. Had been so damn close to just thinking, to hell with it, and giving up playing the hero.

And as a twisted grin spread over his features, he thought, after all, wasn't being the villain oh so much easier?


End file.
